


Just One Drink

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Series: The Forbidden Love of Nightwing and Deathstroke [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Domestic, Drunkenness, Hangover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: Dick spends some time with Slade





	Just One Drink

Dick looked up when Slade set a bottle and two glasses in front of him.

“What’s this?” Dick asked, slowly closing his laptop and watching as Slade uncorked the  wine and poured both glasses to the brim, taking Dick’s laptop and trading him the glass. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Slade replied, pressing a kiss to Dick’s forehead and taking a seat on the couch next to the acrobat. “Just drinking.”

“I shouldn’t,” Dick said, shaking his head. “I have to patrol later.”

“So?” Slade asked, taking a sip of his own. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

“Slade, do you remember our second date?” Dick asked. “That’s the same thing you said before I blacked out after my fourth drink.”

“It was actually your twelfth, but that’s unimportant,” Slade murmured against the rim of his glass. “You hold your alcohol better than you think you do.”

“My twel-” Dick set the glass down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. “Slade, I don’t drink that much. Ever.”

Slade chuckled, turning his gaze away as he took another sip. “It wouldn’t kill you to not go on patrol for one night,” he said.

“I have to head into Gotham part way through to patrol with B though,” Dick objected.

“So?” Slade asked. “It’s not like he’ll miss you.”

“No, you’re right,” Dick said, nodding. “His first assumption will be that you killed me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Slade said calmly.

“Bruce doesn’t care,” Dick replied. “He hates you.”

“Everyone hates me, kid.”

Dick glared and Slade chuckled. “If you’re really that upset about the stick Wayne’s got up his ass, then by all means go on patrol.”

Dick sighed. “If we’re going to drink, then I’m stopping after I say stop.”

Slade shrugged, picking Dick’s glass up and passing it back over to him. “Whatever makes you happy, kid.”

 

…………..

 

“Another!” Dick declared loudly, red faced and intoxicated.

“I think you’ve had a bit too much, kid,” Slade told him, standing and picking up the wine bottle while Dick whined petulantly behind him.

“But I haven’t said stop yet!” the acrobat reminded him, standing up to follow only to have to sit back down when his legs threatened to collapse under him.

From where he was in the kitchen, Slade heard Dick call, “Your couch tastes like blood!”

Slade rolled his eye, setting the wine bottle up where he knew Dick couldn’t reach before setting both glasses in the sink and returning to where his intoxicated boyfriend was lying face down on the couch.

“I think you’ve had more than enough, Dick,” the mercenary told him. “Come on. Let’s get in bed.”

“No,” Dick whispered, sitting up with his eyes wide. “Let’s do something else!”

“I’m going to have to veto that choice since there was no consent given before we started drinking,” Slade said calmly, grabbing Dick by the wrists and pulling him to his feet.

“You don’t need it,” the drunk acrobat told him, leaning into Slade’s chest.. “Cause you always have it.” he leaned in close to whisper, “Always.”

“I think sober you would disagree,” Slade said with a soft chuckle.

Dick groaned loudly as Slade dragged him by the wrist to the bedroom. “Please?” he begged. His words were terrible slurred. “Slade, I really  _ really  _ wanna have sex with you. Please?” he batted his eyes, even as Slade forced him into the bedroom and onto the bed.

“If you still want sex in the morning,” Slade told him as he forced Dick under the covers. “Then we’ll see. Assuming your hangover isn’t too crippling.”

Dick mumbled something into his pillow, glaring petulantly up at Slade as the mercenary stripped down and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before turning off the light and climbing into bed.

 

………..

 

Dick woke up with the third worst headache he’d ever had. The room was bathed in darkness and the only reason he knew he was at Slade’s apartment was from the nice, clean sheets underneath of his bare arms as well as the smell of the man’s cologne on the pillow.

Groaning and squinting his eyes in the low lighting, Dick lifted his head and looked towards the bedside table where he found two aspirin and a glass of water.

He downed it all quickly before shoving his face back in the pillow with enough space to breath. He heard the door open but was too tired and in too much pain to lift his head.

A warm hand settled onto his back, a gentle weight between his shoulder blades. “How are you feeling?” Slade asked in a soft, gentle whisper.

Dick groaned, not daring to shake his head in case it made his hangover worse. “Pain.”

Slade chuckled lightly. “Get some more rest,” he said. “You had a little too much to drink.”

“I told you to stop me,” Dick lectured weakly.

Slade hummed. “You told me you’d stop when you said stop. You then proceeded to try and outdrink me which, may I inform you, is not possible.”

Dick didn’t remember that but he certainly believed it. “What time is it?”

“Only nine,” Slade replied. “Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you some more aspirin in a few hours.”

Dick was out before Slade had even stood from the side of the bed.


End file.
